


Lather, Rinse, Repeat

by TheNextPage



Series: Declarations: Dasha re-imagined [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextPage/pseuds/TheNextPage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief interlude from life in the Apocalypse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lather, Rinse, Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niklovr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Declarations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167479) by [niklovr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/pseuds/niklovr). 
  * Inspired by [Declarations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167479) by [niklovr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/pseuds/niklovr). 



> This little piece is a gift to Niklovr for the brilliance that is Declarations. I wanted Dasha to have some frisky moments; the angst is driving me bonkers. So here is the first (in hopefully many) little smatterings of re-imagined, slightly more over romantic bits between the two.
> 
> Disclaimer: This won't make sense as a stand-alone, has to be read in conjunction with Declarations by Niklovr. Quotes and story lifted ENTIRELY from that masterpiece. Return to the source - get wrapped up in a great fic! I own nothing!

“You moaned like you found heaven,” Daryl said.

She batted her eyes quickly, just to catch a glimpse of him but avoid getting any shampoo in her eyes, a smirk playing across her lips.

“Washing my hair with soap just doesn't feel half as good as using shampoo.”

She was pleasantly surprised when he offered to help her – her one-handed movements slowing her down and causing his ever-present anxiety to rise.

As his expert hands worked miracles across her scalp and over her bouncy, tangled afro, she could barely contain the smile that was breaking out across her face. The unbidden moan that tumbled from her lips was purely his doing – the way his thumbs massaged her nape whilst his remaining fingers pulsed rhythmically over the rest of her head.

“You like that?” He murmured against her ear.

“That’s good, Daryl. That’s real good.”

She welcomed the direction to dunk down. It was time for a rinse but she needed to cool down: she could feel her nipples pebble and the heat rush down to her belly and start to pool between her thighs.

When she re-surfaced she felt his body closer to her back, his breath a tickling warmth against her neck. If she turned around right then...

He tapped her shoulder with the conditioner.  
She whispered her reply about the conditioner being applied the same way, because she didn't trust her voice not to betray her.

She welcomed slightly treading water and leaning her head back with her eyes closed. Daryl wouldn't see her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. She was melanin-rich but not enough to hide her blush – the raised apples of her cheeks would betray her, and no doubt he would be able to read the aching for him in her eyes with a single glance.

His innocent questions about why the conditioner wasn't foaming warmed her, and for the meek sincerity in his voice, she could ignore the gravelly rumble of his voice as it dribbled over her senses and she answered his questions instead.

The chill of the water was doing a good job of restoring her to an efficient, alert equilibrium, as they continued talking about hair types and conditioner. But then he started running his fingers through her hair, wet-combing her hair with those dexterous fingers. She doubted if he missed a strand.  
It took all her strength to still her fingers from reaching behind her and grabbing onto his arm to feel grounded in that delicious strength now aimed at slowly untangling knots of her hair, or to not snake a hand behind his back and draw him closer to her, press him flush against her and let her lips murmur as to what his hands were inspiring throughout her body.

She came up from her last rinsing, equally trying to purify her thoughts. Her mind came up short when she saw the criss-cross of scars across his back. Her breath caught and tears immediately sprang to her eyes. Swallowing it back, she lowered her hand back in the water that had reached out to try soothe and smooth away that zigzagged history of pain. A calm mellow vibe hung between her and Daryl now. There would be time enough to explore all the sensations he inspired in her; time enough to ask the questions lodged in her throat about the scars on his back. But for now, after everything they’d lost, they needed to create good memories. She shook her head again, dispelling the sadness trying to encroach on her buoyant, stolen moment of cheerfulness.

Sasha shook off the heaviness that tried to impede upon her light mood as she grabbed her towel from the rocks and moved into the bushes to get dressed. Droplets of water fell from her still wet hair mingled with the first wave of the rainstorm as she towelled off, listening to the comforting sounds of Daryl as he got dressed, a shrub or two away. A tender smile returned to her face as she listened to his soft huffs as he pulled on layer after layer. Memories of the lake had already begun to form and she couldn't stop thinking about them...about him. She knew this brief respite from Walkers was one she’s remember for days to come, as the start of something beautiful and new.


End file.
